


Just a little while

by olivebranchesandredwine



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Queer Relationship, Clothed Sex, Developing Relationship, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Making Out, Patrick Brewer is Thirsty, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22135099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivebranchesandredwine/pseuds/olivebranchesandredwine
Summary: Early relationship making out, featuring thirsty Patrick and frantic thigh fucking. That's it, that's all that happens.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 72
Kudos: 352





	Just a little while

**Author's Note:**

> When you have a zillion WIPs, what you really need to do is write another stockroom makeout PWP, right? That’s how it works?

It hurts. Patrick is so hard it fucking _hurts;_ the zipper of his jeans feels like it’s cutting into his skin where his dick is pushing up against it; and it’s taking all of his self-control not to just undo his fly and relieve the pressure. He wants to. _Holy fucking god, _he wants to.

He wonders if David knows, if he can tell just how hard he is. David’s such a gentleman, so careful with Patrick that it makes him a little crazy. David’s got those big soft _strong _hands curled around his jaw, idly scratching against the short hair at his nape, and Patrick can only imagine how those nimble fingers might feel on other parts of him. _God_, he wants to feel that.

But it’s lunchtime on a workday, and they can’t do much of anything here, now. Well, they shouldn’t. The logical, MBA part of Patrick’s brain knows that making out in the stockroom during business hours is a highly suspect business practice, but Patrick’s not thinking with that part of his brain right now. He’s not thinking much of anything right now.

Patrick’s doing his best not to cant his hips forward, to press himself against David’s thigh, but the more he melts into David’s kiss, the harder it is to hold back. He’s losing himself to David’s mouth—to the way David’s tongue teases so gently against his bottom lip before thrusting inside, fucking into his mouth to a rhythm Patrick so desperately wants to match with his hips.

“David,” he gasps between David’s thrusts, “David, please—” and before his mind really understands what his body is doing, Patrick has walked David backwards and pressed his broad back against the wall. His hands are roaming now, splayed wide as he tries to touch as much of David’s chest as possible. The callouses on his palms drag a bit on the soft material of David’s sweater, and Patrick _knows _how David feels about his luxury knits, so he quickly dips them down to David’s waist and slides them to tease at the hemline, slipping them underneath to touch David’s bare skin. _For the sake of the sweater, _of course. That’s all.

Not because his brain melts a little when his fingers tangle in the coarse hair that covers David’s chest.

Not because the feel of David’s pecs underneath his palms sends a zing straight to his dick.

Not because David makes the sweetest little whine when Patrick’s thumbs brush against his nipples.

“The store’s open,” David groans into Patrick’s mouth, then lets his head fall back against the wall with a thunk when Patrick takes a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, “_fuck, _Patrick, that feels too good.”

Patrick rubs his cheek against David’s stubbled jaw, an accomplished grin spreading wide across his face because even though they’ve been doing this for weeks now, he still can’t believe that he gets to make this beautiful man make sounds like that.

“We’ll hear the bell if someone comes in. Can we…maybe—” Patrick traces his tongue down from David’s jaw, then nips at the pulse point in his neck, “I—uh…if you wanted to, I mean…” Patrick realizes, on some level, that he hasn’t actually _said _anything, that he’s not making sense, but David’s throat is _right there_, and he tastes so good, and surely David will understand what he wants, right?

“You’re gonna need to give me a little more information than that, sweetie,” David’s voice is soft as butter, and he’s writhing against Patrick’s hands all cat-like, and _dammit, _this is the hard part. Patrick wants David to just _do _things, but David doesn’t work that way. David makes him say what he wants, makes him put his desire into words, and it’s so hard. So _goddamn_ hard.

“Can I,” he feels the flush spread across his face, “can I…uh, can we…just…I wanna feel you against me—your cock against mine.” The tops of his ears are on fire now; why is it so damn hard to tell David what he wants?

“Mmhmmm,” David murmurs, and then captures Patrick’s mouth for another kiss, because he always rewards Patrick for using his words. “We can do that, for just a little while.”

And then David’s hands are wandering down Patrick’s torso until his fingers rest at the button of his jeans. He presses a chaste kiss against Patrick’s lips, then pulls back so that Patrick has to look up into David’s eyes. “You sure about this?” he asks, quirking a dark eyebrow toward the sky.

“Yes,” Patrick breathes into his mouth, closing his eyes in delight as David unbuttons his jeans and slowly unzips them, “yesyesyesyes _god _yes.”

When David palms his erection through his briefs, Patrick’s hips stutter. _Fuck. _It feels so good, and that’s just his _hand. _Patrick is a little self-conscious when David finds the wet spot because he’s fucking drooling precome already, but David rubs his thumb across it, teasing the head of Patrick’s dick and then he forgets anything but how good David feels. He wants this so bad. He _wants. _

“You too?” Patrick asks, bashful, glancing up at David through his lashes as he reaches down to pull at the drawstring of David’s pants. David nods, and then Patrick’s diving in with both hands, so eager—desperate, really—to get his hands on David. He shoves a hand into David’s briefs, and when his palm slides against the slight wetness at the tip, he tries to swallow the pathetic little sound that escapes from his lips, leaning into another kiss. He slowly, reverently wraps his fist around the length of it, runs his thumb up and down the underside of the shaft, trying to memorize the ridges and veins as he traces along thedelicate skin.

And apparently, what he’s doing is _working _for David, because it punches a sound halfway between a grunt and growl from his throat. Before Patrick knows just what’s happening, focused as he is on the feeling of David’s cock in his hand, David is pushing his joggers and briefs down in one rough motion. 

“Fuck, David,” Patrick whines into David’s mouth as he tightens his grip around David’s erection, slowly starting to jerk him off.

“Off,” David demands, tugging to get Patrick’s probably too-tight jeans down his hips, “dammit…off off _off_.” Patrick is too caught up in the way the velvet-soft skin of David’s dick rolls in his hand to quite register David’s frustration, barely notices how his jeans are stuck, digging into where the curve of his ass meets thigh. Because all of that is _nothing _compared to how it feels when David pullshis underwear down just far enough to make his aching erection slap against his lower belly, smearing precome all over.

David mouths his way from Patrick’s chin to his ear, and then takes the lobe between his teeth, biting hard enough that Patrick hisses. “Fuck my thighs, Patrick,” he whispers, bringing one of his hands to his mouth and giving it a messy, wet lick before reaching down for Patrick’s cock.

_Fuck._

Patrick is…is overwhelmed, is what he is. He’s touching David’s dick, for god’s sake; David’s cock is _throbbing_ hot and hard in his grip. He’s mesmerized by how David reacts to his touch—the hitches in his breath, the little gasps and grunts as Patrick experiments with different types of pressure, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, swiping his thumb over the slit. He’s gonna get to see David come; _fuck, _he’s gonna get to make David come, and it’s enough to make him forget everything.

But then David wraps that impossibly soft, spit-slick hand around Patrick’s steadily leaking dick and starts to guide him between his thighs. Those thick, delicious thighs. Electricity shoots out to every nerve-ending in Patrick’s body, and he’s gonna _explode_. David’s hand is so soft, sliding along the shaft, and then Patrick’s nestled between David’s thighs, and holy Mary mother of fucking _Christ_ David’s squeezing him so tight, and it’s warm and slick with spit and sweat and the precome that’s been drooling from Patrick’s dick like a fucking Saint Bernard. It’s so good, so tight, and Patrick has to move, has to thrust into him because _fuck._

_“Fuck, _David,” Patrick can’t control himself; it feels too damn good; he needs—he just needs to _fuck_ so that’s what he does. He’s still got a hand wrapped around David’s cock, but he doesn’t have the presence of mind to really _do _anything with it right now. He’s squeezing David with that fist, digging his nails into David’s ass the other, and just rutting into him like a feral animal because it feels so good. He’s panting, grunting as he thrusts, and David just _lets _him, lets him take control and take his pleasure and it’s so goddamn intense Patrick is gonna die. 

Vaguely, Patrick is aware of David’s arms around him, pulling him closer, nails scratching against his nape, as he mutters utterly _filthy _things into Patrick’s ear—things he wants to do to Patrick, things he wants Patrick to do to him—and honestly, Patrick is amazed that David can make words because the pleasure is so intense that everything he starts to say ends up a wordless grunt.

“Fu—” A trickle of sweat slides its way down Patrick’s temple onto his cheek, and David interrupts his dirty litany to lick it up, and once again Patrick forgets about words, forgets about everything but _David_. David David David.

Patrick’s hips are moving like a fucking jackhammer now—he’s never felt such an urgent need to _fuck, _Jesus—and he’s got his forehead resting on David’s chest, and maybe he shouldn’t because he’s sweating like a fiend and knows how David gets about his luxury knits, but David’s just _holding _him, pulling him tighter and maybe it’ll be okay if he sweats on David’s sweater, just this once.

“Gonna come for me?” David asks, and it makes Patrick snap his hips even harder. He whines as the head of his cock moves along the cleft of David’s ass, and for a second he imagines how it would feel to be _inside _him, how it would feel to come hot and wet in David’s hole. _Fuck. _Patrick feels his orgasm building, the tension coiling up inside him like a spring, and he’s _so so _close now.

“That’s it, baby,” David purrs, “fuck me til we both come.” And yes, David is absolutely right; that’s _it. _That’s fucking _it; _Patrick’s hips stutter and he lets himself go, David’s name a breathy little gasp on his lips. And as he comes, spurting hot and wet against the cleft of David’s ass, David squeezes him even tighter with those gorgeous gorgeous thighs, and maybe that’s all David needed because David’s biting his lower lip and choking off a gasp as he comes over Patrick’s hand, spilling messily between them.

They stand there, tangled up in a sticky, wet embrace as the rest of the world gradually comes back into focus. Patrick’s sweaty and sated as he leans in to press a gentle kiss to David’s lips.

“Thank you….um, for letting that happen for us,” he says, his voice a muddle of teasing and content and unsure. “I-uh..I may have gotten a little carried away.”

David just grins, that little half-smirk with the soft eyes that Patrick already knows that David saves up just for him. “That was fun,” he says as he nuzzles the tip of his nose against Patrick’s, “but we should probably try to save that sort of thing for after we close.”

Patrick can tell that he’s blushing now, his whole face is on fire above and beyond the sex-flush that hasn’t faded yet. “Probably a good idea. For the business,” he mumbles, shyly scrubbing his hand over the back of his head.

“For the record, this whole bashful thing?” David is laughing now, and that’s just…well, it’s adorable is what it is, but it’s also a little embarrassing. He makes a vague, swoopy gesture toward Patrick with one hand, then continues, “would probably be more convincing if we weren’t standing here with our dicks still out.”

And now Patrick’s laughing too, as he pulls David in for another kiss. They continue like that, giggling and kissing and teasing until a certain tall, dark, and handsome shop-owner informs him that dried semen between one’s thighs is _incorrect._

“To be continued after closing,” Patrick teases, swatting at David’s ass as he goes to clean up.


End file.
